


Flour Wars

by possiblyfictional



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Domestic, Domestic Fluff, Fluff, Food Fight, Gabriel in the Bunker, M/M, Tickling, god what cute beans
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-28
Updated: 2015-12-28
Packaged: 2018-05-10 00:55:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,369
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5562556
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/possiblyfictional/pseuds/possiblyfictional
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Why can't Sam ever cook anything at all in peace?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Flour Wars

"Make me my damn cookies, Winchester,” Gabriel grumbles from the counter top. “You’re almost done with dinner, and I know for a _fact_  that you make the best anything-that-comes-to-food.”

Sam sighs and glares at the angel who’s come to live in the bunker. When Heaven's gates shut, Gabriel was dragged back from the dead and forced to Earth; Cas is certain it was God steeping in again. Sam still remembers finding Gabriel on the side of the highway, but he doesn’t exactly like to think about it.

Even though Gabriel was still getting used to the Earth life, that doesn’t mean he gets to be an ass. Or make orders while giving Sam compliments to try to woo him into anything. Although sometimes they work.

“Shut up, Gabe,” Sam replies, but, like the damn sucker he is, he pulls out a cookie sheet. Gabriel grins. Maybe it’s fonder than it should be because of the nickname, but Sam doesn’t catch that.

Gabriel watches Sam wash his hands and make sure the oven is on. He’s still watching Sam as he prepares the dough, but he’s studying the Winchester’s hands instead of his face. Sam is quiet, making sure to give Gabriel as little satisfaction as possible with the fact that he’d given in to the archangel’s pleading.

Finally, the dick with wings speaks up as Sam starts to measure out the flour.

“Cas never gets it when I say flour looks like drugs - hey, asshat!”

Sam’s smile is wide with satisfaction as Gabriel makes a face. Sam had tossed some of the flour at him, leaving the archangel to his own devices and continuing to start on the dough for the cookies. Dean will probably want some of these, anyway.

A few minutes later, he’s stopped in his tracks. White powder clouds his vision when Gabriel uses angel mojo to dump the box of flour on Sam’s head. He’s surrounded in a world of white for a good few moments, frozen in his tracks. The shorter man’s laughter rings out, clear as a bell in the kitchen as Sam struggles to find words.

“ _Oh my dear god_ ,” Sam finally manages to utter, careful to keep the flour out of his mouth. Gabriel’s laughing gets even louder, bordering on hysterical.

Sam didn’t move as the other regained control. With a heavy sigh, he grins, “That was even better than I thought it would be.”

At that point, the Winchester was irritated as hell. A little amused, yes, but more annoyed than anything. He tips his head back, letting the little mountain of flour on the top of his head fall to the floor. There’s flour in places it shouldn’t be, and Sam is about ready to hit Gabriel square in the jaw.

“I hate you,” Sam says into the kitchen, breaking the moment of silence stealing the room while flour sifts and floats to the floor. Gabriel starts laughing again, harder than before.

Sam has an egg in his hand.

Gabriel isn’t that far away.

Sam has long arms.

It happens in the blur of an instant. The younger Winchester reaches for Gabriel, who’s distracted by his own laughter, and slams the raw egg on Gabriel’s head, knowing the archangel won’t get hurt by the blow. For good measure Sam ruffles the other’s hair, ensuring the raw egg is properly rubbed in. Laughing, he tries to escape the kitchen, hoping to reach his warded room before Gabriel can react.

He’s too slow. However, instead of angel mojo being used against him, it’s just Gabriel tackling Sam to the floor. Sam grunts as he’s bodily pushed to the ground, flour nearly ending up in his mouth again. The human can feel the angel’s grin against his neck, but that quickly dissipates as he begins to gain control of the situation. Flour kicks up around the two as their scuffle ensues, and Gabriel conjures up a jar of cinnamon in his hand to fight Sam with.

“No- no - give me the damn - Gabrie- dude- _ha_!” he shouts while reaching for the jar, fighting un-enforced archangel strength to acquire it. He’s smiling despite himself, and so is Gabriel, and Sam should probably be pissed about this whole situation but he’s having a really hard time trying to do that while they’re both grappling for the open jar of cinnamon and getting it all over their clothes and arms and everywhere.

Gabriel huffs and scrambles onto his knees while Sam does the same, both of them wary of the other. Gabriel’s actually panting lightly (does he ever move if he can use mojo?), little huffs of breath that punctuate the silence that’s returned to the kitchen.

With a small laugh, Sam looks down at the cinnamon jar in his hand and says, “Well, let’s hope Dean doesn’t get hungry any time soon.”

That sends Gabriel laughing again, and he lunges at Sam with another raw egg in his hand, one that appeared out of nowhere. Sam knows he’s screwed because the floor is too slippery to escape thanks to the fallen flour, and he’s backed against the counter. With a panicked yelp of alarm, he backs up with what precious few instants he has left to grab the first thing he can reach off the counter, which happens to be a bag of chocolate chips that he was going to use to make the forgotten cookies.

They meet in an abrupt clash, Gabriel smashing the egg into Sam’s shoulder, Sam attempting to pour the chocolate chips over the archangel’s head. Gabriel laughs, giving the taller man a victorious smirk.

“Now we’re even,” he states, breath coming out in sharp puffs as he realizes he’s close enough to the younger Winchester to actually feel the warmth coming from him.

Sam just smiles innocently, but shakes his head. “Nah, you still have the flour dump to make up for,” he replies, his voice lighthearted as Gabriel attempts to back the hell up and avoid whatever payback he’s supposed to get.

With those words, the skirmish turns into a full on battle, and nothing is sacred. From the bowl of dry ingredients that would have been desserts to the vegetables from the dinner that Sam had made earlier, any food was a weapon. It was warfare, but none of it could be taken seriously because of the constant background noise of two grown-ass men who have saved the world an endless amount of times giggling in the center of the kitchen in a state of disarray. The real “winner” of this whole mess ended up being Gabriel, because when he figured out that one well-placed pinch to Sam’s side could get him to squeal and potentially drop to his knees, he used that to his advantage.

Keeping Sam down via tickling him, Gabriel poured whatever was left of the dry ingredients of the abandoned recipe on the Winchester’s head, grinning widely.

“You lost, Sammich, you damn well lost,” the archangel said over Sam’s laughing, finally letting the human up.

Sam sighed and shook his head, flour flying into the air with every movement he made. He decided he didn’t feel like standing up, and so sat leaning against a cabinet. Still smiling, he looked around the kitchen, which was pretty much a mess. “I do not want to clean this up.”

A snap of Gabriel’s fingers, and everything was back in order, including the two men’s clothes and hair. It was as if nothing had happened.

Gabriel settles on sitting next to the younger Winchester, both of them still breathing a bit heavily in the stillness, both still grinning like they’d landed first place at a marathon.

Wistfully, Sam says, “I don’t remember the last time I laughed that hard, and for that long, too.”

Gabriel nods. Then, with some ounce of bravery, leans against Sam, who doesn’t pull away. His smile softens as he replies, “I can’t remember, either.”

“Don’t you have infinite memory or something like that?”

“Yeah.”

“So how can you not - oh,” it clicks for him, and he just lets the moment hang there.

With his own level of courage, Sam rests his head on top of Gabriel’s. The archangel doesn’t pull away.


End file.
